A Choice Worth Dying For
by Helena Louvel
Summary: Leia and Luke see an old soldier through in his final moments. After all, after everything, doesn't he deserve at least that much? [Minor spoilers for the series finale of Star Wars: Rebels]


Luke's booted footsteps echoed along the durasteel grates that lined the corridors of the base. Officers yelped and hurriedly flattened themselves against the walls. Pilots spun around with flustered mutterings. A few of those off-duty peeked their heads out from behind doorways or took a half-step into the hallway, wondering what in the world was going on, only to throw themselves backward as their resident Jedi passed in a blur.

He had broken into a run the moment his feet had left the hangar bay, and he hadn't slowed for anything. He'd not even taken a second to set his hydrospanner on his belt, let alone put it down somewhere.

 _"Luke?"_

His sister's voice was enough to get him going in the best of times. Leia could be downright frightening when she wanted to be. Her tone, however, hadn't been sharp or commanding, and she hadn't been after him - most likely for hiding away in the hangar to tinker with his X-Wing - as he'd originally thought. In fact, he hadn't had time to get a word in edgewise before her voice had broken and he had been on his feet.

 _"Luke, I need you in med-bay. It's-..."_

She hadn't finished, but Luke felt he already knew. They had been anticipating it for a while, but no degree of expectation had prepared him for the reality. He'd started moving without realizing it, mind reeling and altogether somewhat panicked. Very un-Jedi like of him; a thought that really did nothing to help.

The med-bay was deep within the base, but it took Luke a fraction of what it would under normal circumstances to be sliding to a halt outside the door. He raised a hand, heart in his throat, blood pounding in his ears. Then, knuckles tightening in restraint, he paused. His fingers were shaking, he realized and, after a moment, found that his entire body was, in fact, trembling - tense; with anxiety or proper fear, he wasn't sure. His gaze dropped to the floor, hand following suit back to his side where it curled briefly into a fist. Breathe. He needed to breathe. Everything would be alright, he just had to... _breathe_.

Letting go was difficult, Ahsoka had told him. Letting go was almost impossible sometimes, and it hurt. But there came a time when one had to accept that there was nothing to be done and make peace with the inevitable. It was easier in principle than in practice. But necessary, nonetheless.

Luke spun the hydrospanner absentmindedly in hand. He forced himself to take a deep breath, and let it out slowly, closing his eyes. When he opened them he had calmed and the tension, while not disappearing completely, had eased from his shoulders. Reaching out a far steadier hand, he pressed two fingers against the door's controls, and waited for the telltale hiss of the magnetic seal disengaging.

The smell of antiseptic hit him in a waft of foul clean as he stepped into the chilled air of the med-bay. The expansive space had laid largely empty since the defeat of the Empire, its supplies going out to relief teams and clean-up missions. Even in the emptiness, it took him a moment to spot Leia, perched on a rickety piece of broken machinery, dressed in cream against a sea of whites and similar colors. He willed his feet to carry him forward despite the nervous skip of his heart and in smooth, measured strides, he crossed to her side. She straightened - a silent acknowledgment of his presence - and reached for his hand the moment it settled on her shoulder.

"How is he?"

She stayed silent for a long minute. Her fingers slipped from his, returning to their original place atop the wrist of the bed's occupant. Her lack of response gave him an opportunity to get a look at the aforementioned, and he couldn't help a saddened sigh. The aging Clone didn't look too much worse for wear than the last time he'd seen him, let alone the first. The lines and wrinkles had deepened, and he was overall gaunt and a few shades paler, but that was all. From appearance alone, Luke wouldn't have thought that the man was on death's doorstep, but he knew better. He felt it; the life ebbing away from the old soldier, gradually yet steadily fading from the Force. His time was nearly spent.

"It won't be long now," Leia said finally as if fully knowing what he'd been thinking. Her grip on the weathered hand between hers tightened a fraction, and she offered a strained smile. "They found him in the armory. They think he was taking inventory."

"He's always been ready for a fight," Luke replied, a soft admiration in his eyes as he rounded the cot and settled himself on one, unoccupied, across from his sister.

'Relic' had been the word to spring to mind the first time he had seen the ex-Republic trooper, though he'd held his tongue. He had quickly, completely and consistently been proven wrong. From the Rebellion's first attacks to the Battle of Endor, the man had never once wavered in his conviction to their fight or his belief that they would ultimately succeed. He had always been there whenever anyone so much as breathed a word of needing help; with a story, a pep-talk, an offer of assistance. Luke had grown accustomed to it, appreciative of it - even more so once he learned that the man had, in fact, served alongside his father in the Clone Wars. The Jedi held more respect for him than he'd ever had for anyone else in his life. As far as Luke was concerned, he'd done exactly everything to deserve it, and so much more. So much _better_.

"Even in peacetime," Leia agreed, her smile edging towards something more genuine. Keeping a careful hold of his hand with her other, she placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Commander? Luke's here."

Baffled, Luke could only muster a series of rapid blinks. "He asked for me?"

Leia simply nodded. Rex's eyelids fluttered, the irises beneath glassy and unfocused. With a breathless grunt, he made an attempt to sit upright, struggling against his failing body. "Kid?" he called. His voice was paper-thin.

"Easy, Rex," Luke said, gingerly pressing the man back down to the cot. "I'm right here." Rex gave a small, satisfied huff, settling into the pillows willingly. No sooner had he done so, he broke into a fit of rasping coughs, brow creasing in pain. Luke glanced up at his sister, though kept his hand on the Commander's shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Did you send word to General Syndulla?"

"She's still busy with repair efforts on Belsavis," Leia said, frowning. Luke mirrored her expression to a slightly less sour extent. "Lieutenant Commanders Bridger and Wren are on their way. No one can seem to tell me where Captain Kallus and Commander Orellios are, and-"

"And Ahsoka?"

Leia's gaze flicked upward, looking pensive. "Last we had contact with her," she began, "Ahsoka was somewhere on the fringes of the Outer Rim. It'd take days for her to return."

On the cot, Rex stirred. He spoke, but neither sibling caught the words. The pair shared a concerned look before Luke leaned forward. "Rex?" he asked.

"'soka..."

"Hush," Leia said soothingly, patting his hand. "She'll be along soon, Commander. You need to rest now."

However Rex, it seemed, would not be deterred. With a shake of his head, he turned to stare blearily up at Luke.

"General...?"

Once again, the Jedi was taken aback. The man had almost never referred to him by his rank - always 'kid', or just 'Skywalker'. Shifting, Luke's hand curled properly around Rex's shoulder, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Yes, Rex?"

"This... is for... Ahsoka," he said, holding up a small metal disk. A holorecorder. Within seconds, his arm shook with the effort of keeping it raised, and Luke took the device from him. "When... when she comes back... t-tell her..." He broke off into another ghastly coughing fit, each retch sounding more painful than the last. He curled in on himself, raising an unsteady hand to his mouth. Leia kept hold of his other hand, hushing him gently. Once it had passed, he swallowed dryly and took a gurgling breath that sounded somewhat like a chuckle.

"Tell her she... _definitely_ outranks me." At Luke's look of utter confusion, he gave a weak, dismissive wave of his hand. "Ah... she'll understand."

Luke nodded. "I will," he said, though was nearly drowned out by Rex's next series of heart-wrenching coughs. Leia got to her feet, disappearing from view for a few moments, returning with a small metal mug. She sat, and helped the ailing man take a couple sips of what Luke could only assume was water. The cup was drained and set aside, and Rex closed his eyes. Silence fell, disturbed only by his rattling breaths.

After what felt like an eternity, even to a trained Jedi, Rex opened his eyes, if only partially. It seemed then that a great weight was lifted from his chest, and he smiled.

"G-General... Sky... walker..."

"I'm still-"

"Anakin," he continued. Luke lifted his head, thoroughly startled, but Leia wouldn't meet his gaze, eyes glued to the man in front of them. His sister wasn't one to cry, but the glisten of tears in her eyes was unmistakable. It was his turn to swallow hard as he eased himself off the empty cot and perched next to Rex, close enough that he was in view. He found himself wondering if it made any difference as far as who he was actually seeing. Still, making an effort to smile, Luke nodded encouragingly. "It's... been an honor to serve with you, sir."

"Likewise, Commander."

"Take... Take care of the boys for me... would ya?"

"Of course, Rex," Luke replied, and he meant it. _Wanted_ to mean it, even if those the dying soldier was referring to were long dead themselves. "I promise."

Rex's smile widened. "M-may... the... the F-Force... be with you," he whispered. His eyes listed, settling on Leia, and he squeezed her hand as firmly as he could. "Both... of you..."

A relaxed breath passed his lips. His chest rose, then fell. Rose, then fell. Rose, fell...

And was still.

Leia's nose twitched on a quiet sniffle. She pressed two fingers to the inside of his wrist, but Luke knew. Her tear-stained gaze met his, and she shook her head. Shakily, she rose and ever-so-carefully drew a pristine white sheet - emblazoned with the symbol of the Rebellion - up and over his face. Then, a hand over her mouth, she turned and walked from the med-bay.

Luke sat in the deafening silence, hands clasped between his knees. For a long time, the Old Republic had been a mystery to him. All he'd known in his life had been the Empire's tyranny. Anything else had seemed a blissful dream. It had been a bygone era, it's supposed peace a fantasy. But now, things would change. Were changing. They had a second chance: an opportunity to make it better, to see to it that the mistakes of the past were not repeated. It wasn't something any of them could be certain of. So much damage had been wrought, Luke sometimes doubted the galaxy would ever fully recover.

But they had the chance. The _choice_. That's all any of them could ask for.

And for everything suffered, everything lost…

For _Rex_...

They could try.


End file.
